Oblivion Brought on by Death
by Burnt Reflections
Summary: Oliver WoodCedric Diggory... implied slash. 4 years after Cedric’s death, Oliver pays a visit to Cedric’s grave.Probably doesn’t need T, but who knows...R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: In the past few hours almost I've developed a strange fixation with the wonderful world of Oliver Wood/Cedric Diggory ships (when Cedric was alive, of course). Sadly, I found almost no stories about the two and, realizing there were just far too few, I decided to write one of my own. It's nothing much, just something that I wrote late at night when I majorly needed sleep...Sooo, without further ado, I give to you my little one-shot of Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I am not JK Rowling. If I was, I'd be busy at work writing the 6th book, instead of writing O/C fan fic stories. So there's really no need to sue, because you wouldn't get much anyway. **

**Warning: While it's all Oliver's perspective after Cedric has died, this does deal with implied slashy thoughts (that's boy lovin boy – not that there is any of that in this story) so if it irks you in anyway, the back button was designed with you in mind. And there's a little bit of self-mutilation at the end, but I don't think it's too bad. **

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            Oliver Wood stood in front of the simple gravestone, grieving silently. His head was bent low in sorrow and silent tears racked his lean body. With a sudden jolt, as if by magic (no pun intended) the world-renowned Quidditch player's knees collapsed and he fell to the frozen February ground. Six feet under lay his love, his life, the man he never got to know and now more than ever wished he had. It was so much more than a silly schoolboy crush, and years of self deception and silent counseling with him self would not change that.   

            Oliver felt like his heart had been ripped in two, the day he heard the news. Harry Potter, savior of the Magical world, the Boy-Who-Lived (and maybe the best damn seeker he had ever seen), had won the Triwizard tournament and the unrequited love of his life had been carelessly murdered at the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most faithful servant. How he wished he had been there, somehow been able to block the killing curse, taken it him self and spared an innocent life. But Oliver Wood hadn't even been in the country at the time, instead he was half way around the world, speaking out about the wonder of Quidditch to impressionable young minds. How foolish he felt now. He _should have been there._ He cursed him self for not being in the stands, for not telling Cedric how he felt sooner, for not – for not doing anything. For being helpless, hopeless, unknowing. And he cursed him self once more, for standing by the grave of the young man he never got to know, the young man who had so much to offer, despite his humble Hufflepuff house background. The world was a colder, number place without Cedric Diggory, and no one felt the cold deeper than Oliver Wood did.

            Time passed slowly, leaving Oliver behind, oblivious to the harsh winter winds, the frigid air, the light dusting of snow falling on his light brown curls. After what could have been hours (he had no sense of time anymore), he shifted slightly and felt something in his pocked pressing against his leg. He reached into the deep hollow of his pocket and slowly pulled out the simple pocketknife. He turned the tool over in his hand, examining it from every angle. He flicked the blade out and drew the blade lightly across his palm, drawing forth a thin line of blood. As if in a trance, the famous Quidditch player placed his palm on the cold, snow-covered ground, wincing slightly when the cut met the snow.

            His mind wandered to what might have been...images of the two of them lying spent in bed, the younger man resting with his head on his lovers chest...walking down the main street in Diagon Alley, hands clasped, laughing loudly at the sheer joy of being alive...a family, a home, a life together... all that could never, would never be. All the things that so many took for granted could be swept away within the blink of an eye, Oliver decided. It didn't even give you time to wonder why, that came later.

            He thought back on his life, years spent growing up in Scotland, getting his Hogwarts letter, playing keeper for the Gryffindor team, becoming Quidditch captain, winning the cup, the game – his throat constricted strangely at this memory – the game against Hufflepuff. The game they lost...the only game he ever lost. He remembered contemplating drowning him self in the shower afterwards...and spending the whole 2 hours in the showers thinking of the infuriating Hufflepuff seeker instead. His last year at Hogwarts...leaving Hogwarts, going on play for Puddlemere United, the year Cedric – at this, his mind stopped. His memories would go no further. His world had stopped abruptly that year, and he had crashed unceremoniously into oblivion.

            Depression didn't suit the usually content keeper. He sunk lower and lower into darkness, until he – along with the rest of the world – hardly knew who he was. He continued playing Quidditch, but the fire was gone, and the fans noticed. Avid Oliver supporters couldn't explain it, nothing like this had ever happened to their beloved keeper before. He turned moody and insomnia hit him over the head like the blow of Thor's hammer. Firewiskey became his only companion. And so four years passed. Harry Potter vanquished the Dark Lord, and the magical world got on with business. But Oliver Wood was stuck in time. He couldn't move forward in life, he could only look back, on death.

            Something shifted within him and with a sudden quickness uncharacteristic of the new Oliver, he grabbed the knife from where it had fallen to the ground, brought it to his heart, adjusting his hand so it pressed in; just enough to make a drop of blood appear on his starched white shirt. The red tear got bigger and bigger until popped, leaving a red stain on the spotless fabric.

            As he contemplated death, his memories turned to fantasies...more dreams of what might have been. That's all they would ever be...dreams, with no chance of becoming reality. 

            His hand grew cold with impatience, and he pressed the knife in deeper, ready to escape from his pain. He felt sane, saner than he'd felt in a long time. He wasn't exactly happy, but the knowledge that he'd be with Cedric soon brought tears to his eyes and he felt more alive than he'd felt since that fateful day. Leaning his head back from its resting place on the gravestone, he looked up at the gray sky. The snow was falling more heavily now and the sun had given up its fight with the clouds, retreating behind them, biding it's time till the sky had cleared. Something caught his eye and he turned around, startled.   

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**A/N: that my friends is what you call a cliffhanger. This was originally going to be a one-shot but I decided to push my self and see if I could commit gasp to something longer. Maybe, if I get enough reviews, I'll make this a two-shot! (if there's even such a thing). Thanks for reading and don't forget to review (we don't want there to only be one part of the R&R now do we, cause that first little r will get awfully lonely without his friend, little r #2). So be a dear and R&R**

 -BurntReflections


	2. Authors Note

**Authors Note**

Due to intensive writers block and lack of reviews cough cough, the second part to Oblivion Brought on by Death is being postponed indefinitely. Sorry for any inconveniences this might cause. I'm just no longer very motivated to continue with this story. To anyone who took the time to read the first chapter and this authors note, thank you. And a special thank you goes out to **neville's princess** for reviewing.

-Burnt Reflections


	3. two truths, maybe more

_**Here is the second part of the story I had previously given up hope on (thanks a million to for the review that made me decide to give this thing another go). I know it's not very long, and probably not very good – none of this has been beta'd b.t.w. so sorry in advance for any spelling, grammar etc, mistakes made – but I felt I needed to complete it to...well, to complete it! **_

**Disclaimer: _Obviously, I am not JK Rowling. If I was, I'd be busy at work updating my website while my readers waited impatiently for July 16th, not writing OW/CD stories. So there's really no need to sue, because you wouldn't get much anyway._ **

**Warning: _While it's all Oliver's perspective after Cedric has died, this does deal with implied slashy thoughts so if it irks you in any way, the back button was designed with you in mind._**

_The snow was falling more heavily now and the sun had given up its fight with the clouds, retreating behind them, biding it's time till the sky had cleared. Something caught his eye and he turned around, startled._

Seeing nothing, Oliver Wood turned back around, but he had the strange feeling that he was no longer alone. He couldn't tell what had brought on the sensation, but something inside him had shifted and he no longer felt the same urgency to end his pathetic half-life. His space had been invaded, and he didn't want to go through with this, not if someone might be watching. Ending his life was a very private thing for Oliver Wood, and after being hounded by the press constantly after Cedric died and he so drastically changed he knew he didn't want his...final action...to be public knowledge; at least not until he was dead and gone. He felt empty somehow, drained of everything. It was almost as if Cedric had died all over again, and he was back to square one: numbness.

He got up slowly and looked around himself for the first time since he'd gotten here. The graveyard was small and one could easily miss it if they were not looking, oh but how Oliver **had** been looking. It seemed that in comparison to preparing Harry Potter against his final battle with You-Know-Who, the death of Cedric Diggory somewhat dulled and as such it had been rather hard for Oliver Wood to track down where Cedric Diggory was buried, since no one seemed to know where exactly this was. Either that or they knew but wouldn't tell because they were concerned for the well being of the deceased's burial site, thinking that if Oliver Wood was looking for the grave of Cedric Diggory, it must be to smash his stone in for winning that bloody game.

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Looking back now, he wished he had gone to the funeral, paid his final respects to the man he would always love, but this could not be helped now, almost 4 years later. At the time, everything had been hazy, and he was not even sure if he had been aware of there being a funeral at all. He realized sadly that he probably hadn't been notified, simple as that. Oliver never read the newspaper for fear of seeing another lie about an innocent witch or wizard – namely himself - plastered across the front page, and no one had known about Oliver's obsession-like love for the younger Quidditch player. Oliver had lost touch with most of his old school mates after he left Hogwarts, so there would be no reason for any of them to have thought of him then. If people even thought about the two of them together at all, they probably envisioned Oliver tearing Cedric apart for destroying his team's beautifully managed winning streak – which all came back to Oliver having to find the site on his own.

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The wind had picked up speed, blowing the snow in every direction. This in combination with the absolute loneliness he was starting to feel made Oliver suddenly want to cry, not silent tears but real ones this time. He had never been a highly emotional man; in fact, he sullenly realized to himself that the only emotions people probably thought he was capable of feeling were strong doses of determination and anger...lots of anger when his determination didn't pay off. Regardless of what other people might have though, right now now all Oliver wanted was someone, anyone at all, to be there with him, just holding him. Nothing particularly passionate, just a deep sense of...he wasn't really sure what. Friendship, he supposed. Lasting friendship, the kind that would span all the ages of the world, even after the people themselves had died. Or even the kind that came back life after life, installing its self in new sets of people; this was Oliver's explanation for the feeling he got – rarely, but it still counted – when he felt like he'd known someone forever, mere hours after they had first met.

Oliver understood with a pang that moved slowly through him, like the effects of an injection of some kind of drug, this was how he'd felt about Cedric, and for the hundredth time he wondered why... _why hadn't he done something about that frighteningly strong connection he'd felt with Cedric? _It didn't do to dwell on this "why," this "what if" stuff, Oliver knew that. Why couldn't he just get the goddamn thing over with? Once more, with renewed energy he picked up the knife from where he had set it on the ground and...

Two truths struck Oliver like an oncoming train, causing him to drop the blade in shock. The first: that he had known the reason he hadn't done anything about his feelings for Cedric, known it all along. He was afraid - petrified was more like it - of rejection. He'd never even been sure if Cedric was gay or not (he'd never seen any sign of it if he was and the pessimistic (and much more dominant) side of him said "of _course_ he isn't, life wants nothing more than to screw you over" – and there was no way Oliver Wood was about to ask and potentially get hurt. He remembered seeing the object of his affection with that Chang girl, walking giddily down the halls, arms wrapped around each other's waists, hips bumping all the way, and the burning feeling he felt in his stomach watching them. The thought of _his_ man with anyone else was beyond agonizing, but still Oliver was too scared to say anything.

And the second truth, which didn't help any added on to the first truth, was that he was absolutely terrified of death...of the not knowing what came after, if that was _it_ or if there was something else beyond the body dying and the soul leaving it. The logical part of him said once he was dead he'd be gone, so who would he be to care either way, but Oliver was still very alive at the moment and the speculation and sadness and loneliness and fear, the driving, gnawing fear – nasty little bugger – and now the two truths on top of everything else were too much for the fragile keeper to deal with. And so, he made one final compromise with him self. He'd call it a night with this whole suicide business thing, go find a nice bar with a large supply of Firewiskey handy and try again in the morning.

.....................................................................Or so he thought. Not being a seer, he had no idea that tonight when he walked into that tavern the man behind the bar would be.......well, I'm gonna let you do your own speculating, think a little, "broaden your minds" – but not _that_ much. Let's just leave it at this: after tonight, Oliver Wood won't be thinking about death for a long, long time.

**FIN!!**

**A/N 2: Wow! I actually finished something! Aren't you proud? Screw that, who cares if _you're_ proud, I am and that's that! sticks out tongue but seriously, if you got this far it means you finished my, um...little 2 shot thing, or you just scrolled down to the end I'm not sure why but lets just leave that one at THAT so don't forget to review! Please? The only request I make is no flamers PLEASE, cause I'm not feeling too impressed with this thing anyway, so I really don't need anyone else telling me it sucks. If you feel that way, don't worry, I'm feeling something of the same. BUT...don't let that stop you from reviewing!**


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